Daughter Dearest
by David-Tennant-is-Brilliant
Summary: "I used to be a normal teenage girl. I used to live a normal life, minus having a father. I had a good health record save for my depression issues, wonderful grades which I was very proud of, and a hard time with friends but I still got by. But one day, it all changed." Beta-read by HarryPotterTNGfan. Rated for some cutting and major depression.


I used to be a normal teenage girl. I used to live a normal life, minus having a father. I had a good health record save for my depression issues, wonderful grades which I was very proud of, and a hard time with friends but I still got by. But one day, it all changed.

Let me start the day before everything changed. The day before my world would fall apart at the seams. It was winter, during Christmas holiday, and I was walking home from the grocery store. I had walked there for a can of soup for my mother, since she had gotten sick. I was bundled up in my jacket, not exactly watching where I was going. I ran into someone, and I fell back into the snow. I looked up to see a man.

This man was no ordinary man. He was tall, skinny, had brown hair, a brown pinstriped suit, and a long brown coat. He wore a bright smile on his face as he helped me back onto my feet. "Hello!" He exclaimed cheerily. I wondered if he was showing kind Christmas spirit or something.

"H-Hi..." I said, picking up the can of soup I had bought and brushing off the snow. "I'm very sorry to trouble you, sir."

"Ah, no worries! What's a young lady like you doing out here all alone? And on a cold day, no less." He brushed a little snow out of my short brownish red hair.

"I needed to pick up soup from the store for my mum. She's sick at the moment."

The strange man nodded, looking around the street and up at the sky, almost like he was expecting to see something up there, floating around. "You mind if I walk with you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all." My mum told me that I was never to talk to strangers, but he was... different, to say the least. I couldn't say why or how even if I wanted to. He was just different, and I trusted him.

We walked together down the side of the street, talking about little things here and there. There was definitely something different about this man. He seemed like he didn't know where he was, or what he was doing. I wasn't really worried though. He was a very nice man. As we walked, I fingered the small watch in my pocket, fiddling with it. I never knew why I carried the watch, but I always have. Since I can remember, anyway. It was special to me. I never opened it before. I never got the chance to. Never really wanted to.

I looked up at the man, since I only reached his shoulders, who was jabbering on and on about some sort of thing that would seem science fiction. I tilted my head a little, though shivered as a gust of wind blew by. I dodged a large man passing by and ended up out in the street, where I heard a noise. Stupid me, I turned around and saw a car coming up fast. I gasped, and quickly sprinted away from the car and further into the street. In the spur of the moment, I wasn't sure what to do.

More cars came, and I had to dodge them, too. The choice was to dodge or be killed, and I didn't feel like being killed at fourteen. I ran across the street and jumped onto a parked car's hood. I had forgotten completely about the man I had been walking with, and just stood there. The can of soup was still in my hand, surprisingly, but I had a death grip on it. I reached in my pocket to grab my watch, which always seemed to bring me comfort.

But it wasn't there.

I panicked for a second and turned to look out in the street to try to spot it, but there stood that strange man, holding my watch in his hand. I looked up to see a dead serious expression on his face. He kept looking from me to the watch, then back to me, and back to the watch again.

"How long have you had this?" He asked rather seriously, and I was taken aback back by his sudden urgency.

"Ever since I can remember... I've had it since I was young, probably around five. I don't really remember getting it, I just remember having it. Then again I can't remember anything before the age of five, so I'm not surprised that I don't remember getting it. Of course I probably should remember getting something so important to me, but again, back then I didn't know it was going to be as important as it is today-" I realized I'd been rambling, which was an awfully bad habit of mine. "Why?"

"No reason..." His voice trailed off as he handed it back almost reluctantly and helped me off the car. I nodded a little. The look on his face and in his eyes was suddenly different. He changed in that little second. What was so special about my watch? I loved my watch and carried it around everywhere, but I never thought about opening it. I scanned his face, and he quickly replaced that strange look with a smile, but it was still accented into his face, like he'd never look at me the same again. I smiled back politely.

"I... I never caught your name, sir," I said. "My name's Riley."

"Oh! I'm the Doctor!" He smiled brightly again. "Nice to meet you, Riley!" He grabbed my hand and shook it.

"Doctor who?" I asked, tilting my head a little and shaking his hand.

He shook his head and pulled his hand out of mine gently. "No, no, just the Doctor."

I nodded. "Odd name, but alright." I smiled back, the smile on his never leaving.

He decided to change the subject, apparently, and that's just what he did. "So, what's your mother sick with?"

I shrugged. "Simple flu. She should be fine soon. Which reminds me, I should get back... If you'd like, you can come to my flat with me. I'll make you a cuppa if you want."

The Doctor smiled brightly. "Well, Miss Riley, I'd love to have a cuppa."

I smiled. "Come on, let's go."

We walked down the street together, mostly staying silent. I looked around, and I saw a little girl and what I assumed was her father. I smiled slightly but sadly to myself, looking down to my feet. I always wish I had a father... I never knew mine. Mom claims I probably came from when she had a couple of one-night stands in a row, which I don't really believe. But whatever, right? There must be a reason for not telling me the truth.

The Doctor noticed my sudden change of emotion and wrapped his arm around me carefully, showing he was concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, uh, nothing..." I said, giving him a reassuring smile and burying the emotion I felt. I usually did this, and at night I'd cry it out.

He nodded slightly, not really buying it. "Alright..."

I nodded, smiling a little and pointing to a building. "There, that's where my flat is."

The Doctor looked around and smiled at some pictures that hung on the wall. I smiled at this, telling him to make himself comfortable. The Doctor nodded, looking at each picture on the wall. Some were a couple of paintings that I'd done from last year, a couple from just last week.

I walked into the kitchen and made the Doctor, me, and Mum a cup of tea. My mind spun, going a million miles an hour, thinking about everything there was to think about. I wondered about my watch, I wondered about the Doctor, and a couple of other non-important things. I warmed Mum's soup, listening to the telly play in the background. I could tell it was the news.

I put the three cups of tea on a tray along with Mum's soup, and stepped out of the kitchen carefully. Luckily I moved slowly, because the Doctor stood there, fixated on my painting I'd done last week. He seemed a little surprised, and very thoughtful.

"You like it?" I asked, looking at the painting.

It was a painting of a beautiful place I dream of. Two suns were in the burnt orange sky, the trees having silver leaves. The grass was a deep red, capped with snow. In the background of the picture, there were mountains, shining across the sky. It was beautiful, it was. I dream about it all the time, running through the deep red grass and laughing... There was no fear, no pain, nothing. I smiled at the thought of my dreams. My wonderful, outstanding dreams that always made me want to be asleep at all times. I'll admit, there are times I'd go to the nurses office, complaining about a headache I didn't have, and she'd let me sleep for a couple of hours. That's a couple of hours more that I get to dream of my lovely little planet inside my head.

"It's..." His mouth hung open slightly, like he was looking for a word to say.

Or had a word to say, but chose not to say it.

He smiled a little. "It's beautiful. So detailed, so... beautiful. You're a really good painter."

I smiled at this. "Thank you, Doctor," I said, taking another step forward. "It's an entire planet. I dream about it all the time. It's wonderful, really. It's called Gallifrey." I smiled more. "I dream of going there every night. About me running through that deep red, snow-capped grass, running up the mountains, having a lot of fun. I always have fun and dance around... And then I hear my name. Someone calls my name out, a different voice every time, but it always registers as my dad. But just as I turn around to look at him... I wake up."

The Doctor stared at me. His eyes fixed on mine. He had a very serious look on his face for what seemed like longer than it truly was. We stared at each other, and he seemed... off, suddenly. Before, he was so cheery and bouncy... Now he was dead serious.

I gulped a little. He was scary when he had to be, apparently. It was weird how he changed moods, too.

After a couple of seconds he shook his head, pushing whatever he was thinking off to the side. He stepped aside to let me by and walked behind me as I walked out to my mum. He was very friendly towards my mum; smiling and acting like he was when we met. But when he looked at me, his eyes filled with wonder and a bit of hope. I was incredibly confused.

That night my mum had decided to go to bed, and the Doctor found that time to leave. He said he'd be back the next day.

That night, for the first time in a long, long time, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't manage to get myself to fall asleep. I stared at the ceiling, lying on my back, thinking about the Doctor, the watch, the picture of Gallifrey, everything. I looked at the clock, which read in bright red numbers: 11:54 P.M.

I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. The watch. I had to open that watch. I got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing my jacket from a coat hanger and dug through the pockets. I grabbed my watch and pulled it out, putting the jacket back on the hanger, and ran to my room.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the watch. I flipped it over, looking at the writing. I took a deep breath, and opened it, just as midnight struck.


End file.
